Hidden
by Thredbo
Summary: Every member of Gibb's team, past and present, has a hidden talent, guilty pleasure, or memorable moment, that they are not too keen on sharing with... well... everyone else in the team. Tony's monologue is up next.
1. Kate

**Hidden**

**Summary:** Every member of Gibb's team, past and present, has a hidden talent, guilty pleasure, or memorable moment, that they are not too keen on sharing with... well... everyone else in the team.

**A/N:** Will become a oneshot serial.

**Special Agent Caitlin Todd**

Nothing like a nice warm shower on a Saturday morning to make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. My roommate's out so I don't have to worry about the water going cold. I've got my towel over my head and a toothbrush in my hand. I think I might go outside later when the sun is nice and bright. Maybe I can read a book. I love a good old Mills and Boons, and if you ever tell anyone, I will personally murder you.

Hair dry – well semi-moist – check. Teeth clean, check. Time on the clock – I stick my head out the door and look up at the big clock in the living room, zero nine hundred – check. I've got a red T-shirt and an old pair of jeans on. I'm not going out until much later in the day, so I don't really have to be presentable yet.

I hear a rustle at the door. _What the?_ Someone's trying to break into my unit. I quickly run into my bedroom and grab my gun. I get on the side of the door behind the hinge so that I can surprise the intruder.

"Hands above your head!" I yell holding my gun out in front of me as the door opens.

"Kate, wait!" A dishevelled Tony sneaks inside.

_What on earth? Tony? _Tony was becoming such a bastard now-a-days that my shock only lasted about point two of a second, long enough for me to drop my gun but not long enough for me to block him from coming into the room.

"What the hell are you doing here? Get out!" I try to push him out the door.

"Wait, I really need to use the head." He replies, trying to push past me.

"You come over unannounced on a Saturday morning to use the bathroom?" I look at him, incredulous. Actually it was more like break into my apartment unannounced.

"I'm down on the street minding my own business on a warm summer's morning, when bam! This chihuahua comes chasing me all the way down the lane for fifty miles." Tony gets very animated as he's trying to explain it to me.

"What on earth are you doing on my street in the first place?" I ask him. "We don't even live in the same suburb."

"Like I said, I didn't want to come to your street. Stupid dog chased me." He has the nerve to give me an annoyed look in my house.

"Go use a public restroom." I tell him.

"Can't hold." He shakes his head. "I'll have to pee on your floor in about point zero five of a second."

I'm too pissed off at him to say something without swearing so I just point in the general direction of the bathroom. He hobbles over with a grin on his face.

I close the door behind me. I will never live this down if any of the others hear of it, and knowing Tony... That's it. I've decided that I _will_ kill Tony.

"Thank you so much Kate." Tony came out of the bathroom. "You don't know how much I appreciate that."

I'm surprised at his civility. Tony doesn't normally pee at your place and thank you for the convenience; he pees at your place and then leaves a big mess for you to clean up on the bathroom floor.

"What's that smell?" He asks, sniffing the air.

Oh damn, I forgot.

I run into the kitchen and pull out my oven tray. I get a knife and poke it into the compound I was making. Great, now thanks to Tony, it got overcooked. Not the black and burnt type, but the harder than I you would like to bite into type, still not black yet.

I'm normally very good with the timing. That's why I can enjoy a nice hot shower with the oven on and not worry about the house burning down. I usually get it nice and soft and delicious to bite into.

"Chocolate." Tony murmurs, his nose less than an inch away from my shoulder. "You've been holding out on us."

"Nobody invited you over for breakfast." I try to shove him away with my shoulder.

"Man, I didn't know you could bake so well." He tells me with genuine awe.

I take the cake out and put it on the cooling rack next to the sink.

"Don't even think about it." I point my finger at him. "You eat that and the dog will be biting onto you rather than chasing you." I remind him.

"Not nice Kate, I'm famished." He gives me his best sad puppy's face.

"They're for a friend." I tell him, too embarrassed to admit that the chocolate cake was for me.

"I'm a friend." He shrugs.

"DiNozzo!" I try to stop him, but he's already helping himself to a portion of the cake, and he hasn't even washed his hands yet.

"Ow, hot, mmm... nice."

OK, under different circumstances, I probably would have plated the cake and offered it to him with a desert spoon and tissue, but presently, he's actually kind of turned me off from breakfast.

"Kate, you should bring this to work." He says with his mouth full and bits of chocolate are flying all over the place.

I grab a knife and cut the cake in half. Then I grab the financial section of the weekend newspaper and plate it.

"Enjoy." I shove the cake and the _Financial Review_ in his face. "Now get out of my house."

"Thanks Kate." He happily accepts his portion. "I would kiss you but my mouth's full."

"Don't mention it." I shudder.

He's still eating and doesn't look like he's going to move.

"Out!" I put my hand on his shoulder and steer him toward the front door.

"Thanks for letting me use the head!" He's still talking with his mouth full, but he's outside the door now and he's just said it loud enough for everyone in my apartment block to hear.

"Don't come back." I slam the door.

Thanks to the egghead, I don't really feel like eating anymore. I sit on the couch in silence. Saturday mud cakes were a private affair, and several criteria had to be filled before I could even contemplate baking. First, we had to not have to work overtime, which doesn't always occur. Second, Gemma had to be out. Third, it had to be sunny. Not that I don't get hungry on a rainy day, but I find that rain takes away the enjoyment of eating the forbidden. At least I knew that on a sunny day, I could always jog off the extra calories I put on.

* * *

It's Monday morning and I'm running late. Again! I almost crash into Palmer's car as I try to park quickly. Before long I'm running into the building and getting my retina scanned at the elevator.

"Morning Kate." Tony appears beside me bright eyes and bushy tailed.

"Morning." I sort of grunt.

The lift door opens and we both get in. Gibbs slides in as the door closes.

"Morning." He says.

"Morning Boss." Tony greets him cheerfully.

"Hey Gibbs." I say.

"Late night." Gibbs looks at me closely.

The people on level three of my apartment partied hard until 3am – on a Sunday. I don't know how Gemma managed to sleep through all of that.

"I'll be fine." I tell him.

"Course you will." Tony agrees. "Hey, boss, she makes the best chocolate pick-me-up ever. I mean she could give the Fifth Street Bakery a run for their money."

I was too tired to tell him to put a sock in it.

"DiNozzo." Gibbs voice was stern.

Thank you, Boss. If Gibbs could read minds, that's what he would have heard from mine.

The doors reopen and we step out into our squad room.

"Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs."

There's pretty much only one person I knowof who felt the need to name our boss so many times.

"Guess what I did over the weekend." Abby bounces excitedly in front of us.

"I don't know, you tell me Abs." Gibbs replies softly in his even tone.

"I rescued a Chihuahua on Maple Street." She smiles in reply. "But my landlord's told me that I can't keep it."

"That's a shame." Gibbs says to comfort her.

"Hey Tony, you wan'na pet Chihuahua?" She turns to DiNozzo.

"My apartment's full." Tony has an expression like his going to throw up on his face. "No space for pets."

"Hey McGee!" Abby calls out to our probationary officer, who was already stationed at his desk, eager to make an impression. "You like dogs?"

"Not particularly, Abby." His eyes are still on his monitor.

I quickly make a detour toward the lavatory before she could question my take on canines.


	2. Abby

**Spoilers: **Season 6

**Abigail Sciuto .**

I wipe the spout. Then I pour the froth into my cup. Normally I consume Caf-Pows, but since I'm not at work. I rely on my espresso machine for my caffeine hit.

It's early morning so I'm making myself a nice cup of hot chocolate. Pour and stir, pour and stir. I even have the chocolate shaker and I'm going to sprinkle the top of my hot chocolate like you see at the cafes.

Best thing about Sundays... waking up in my own bed, er... coffin, nope it's definitely a bed. The number of times I've slept in the lab. But it's all cool. I work solo so I get the job done, even if it means an office sleepover.

Mmm... just the way I like it. My hot chocolate is ten percent chocolate and ninety percent froth. I have this thing where I like to eat the froth and the chocolate separate. I never stir my hot chocolate or cappuccino, or anything that has froth in it. I get a spoon and I scoop out the froth, bit by bit. Then I gulp down the left over liquid in one gulp.

I'm a bit like that with food too. I don't like eating foods with more than three separable ingredients in them. If I have a salad with ten different fruits and vegetables, I will sit there and separate them all with my fork and then down the whole thing as fast as I can. I suppose it doesn't really matter, it all looks the same once it gets into your stomach, but I just don't like them mixed before they get into the stomach.

I guess it's the forensic scientist in me. You have to keep everything separate to make sure that you don't contaminate the evidence. Or in this case the eating experience.

I take the cup with me into the living room where I have stashed my buys from the markets that were on yesterday. I love markets. You never know what random items you're gonna find that you can work with when you get back home.

I hold out an old leather jacket in front of me. This I could modify to fit Tony.

"So what size do you think Tony is, Overlocker? A medium or a large?"

The chorus of _Angel_ by Within Temptation can be heard blasting through the room.

Usually that can only mean one thing. My cousin Lucy is drunk again and doesn't want to face her parents so she will show up at my place completely drunk and incoherent, and I'm wondering how it is that she even remembered where my place was.

Oh yeah, forgot to tell you, _Angel_ is my door bell.

"Lucy I'm telling you, this is not a hotel." I open the door.

Bert the hippo greets me in his pink tutu.

"I'd say DiNozzo is a large?" Gibbs says as he comes through the door, holding Bert.

My door bell's quite loud, and he was outside, on the street with the door shut, and he can still hear me. Sometimes, I think he lies when he says he can't hear me over my music when we're at work.

"Don't let DiNozzo hear you say that." I tell him. For someone who's always scoffing down hamburgers, DiNozzo can be very er... body conscious.

Gibbs hands me Bert and looks around, taking in the pig sty that is currently my living room. You should never walk in on a girl the morning after market day.

"What are you making there?" He nods at my Janome.

"I'm making them all gifts for when they come back." I inform him.

"Abby, we've been through this. They've been reassigned." He reminds me.

"Then they can always be reassigned back." I point out.

"Abby, Abby." Gibbs grabs my arm to make me look at him. "When was the last time you slept?"

"I sleep." I reply.

He gives me that look of his.

"Don't give me that look, you've been losing sleep over this too." I point the conversation back at him. "Admit it."

"Abby..." Again he just looks at me. But he's not annoyed with me anymore. He's sad.

"Don't tell me you don't miss them." I almost shout at him.

"Come here Abby." He holds out his arms for me. As I lean in, he hugs me and he whispers. "I do miss them.

Wow, I'm getting so much out of him. I should make him come to my house every week. He never admits what he's feeling, and never in so many words.

"Why are you here Gibbs?" I ask him. "You didn't just come here to return Bert."

It's true that I tend to take Bert with me everywhere I go, but we were not so inseparable that I've never left him back at the lab before.

"No, I wanted to have a talk with you." He concedes.

"About?" I prod.

"We've just had it." He replies.

Oh, _that_ talk. And here I thought it was something big. Seeing as Gibbs and Sundays, at my place usually never happens. Not that Tony and Ziva and McGee being replaced by three newbies wasn't big.

"That's so sweet." I look at him. "You came all the way to my house just so you could talk about your feelings for them." I hug him tighter.

"My feelings?"

I can picture him raising his eyebrow, but I don't let go of him.

"Abby you're choking me." He whispers.

I let go of him. "Please bring them home Gibbs. I really miss them."

"I will Abby. I will." He replies. He's giving me that other look. The look that says this will happen no matter what. I love that look. It's my favourite Gibbs look. It's the one he wears when he's dealing with a particularly nasty suspect that he just can't wait to bring in, or in this case he's dealing with a particularly stubborn director who's just split up his team.

The weird thing is, they are so much alike, it's not even funny. Gibbs and Vance I mean.

"Since you're here, you can have your present first." I rummage through the mountain of fabrics, designs and old clothes that fill up the lounge room sofa.

"It's er... nice." Gibbs is staring at the socks I give him like I'm going mental.

"They're feet warmers." I tell him. They were hand knitted by yours truly, but I don't tell him that. "Professor Dumbledore always says: You can never have too many socks."

"Who's Professor Dumbledore?" He asks me.

"Never mind." I sigh.

He's holding the feet warmers in his hand.

"Well, do you like them?" I ask him.

"They're not bad." He replies. He's so cute, he's a great agent, but he you put him on the spot like that, he can't lie.

"Why don't you try them on?" I suggest.

"Try them... oh no, no Abby. Not now." He shakes his head. "I'll try them on when I get home."

Which means that he will throw them into his drawer and never look at them again.

"Then how will I know if they fit you or not?" I ask him.

"They always fit." He replies. "Tony will love his jacket." He leans forward and kisses me on the forehead like he sometimes does at work.

"You'll tell me of they're too big or too small." I keep prodding.

"If I break a leg on them, you'll be the first to know." He says as he gets up to leave.

"Gibbs." I call out to him.

"Yes Abby?" He turns around at the door.

"Bert says bye." I grab Bert and wave him at Gibbs.

"Bye Bert." Gibbs smiles.

* * *

"Abby, what's this?" McGee asks holding up a pair of spiked black leather pants.

"It'll go nicely with your sunnies." I tell him.

"Morning boss." One of his departmental juniors came up past us.

It's so funny to see that he's not Probie anymore.

"Hi Gerald." McGee is distracted. "We'll talk about this later." He says to me.

"You're welcome Timothy." I smile.


	3. Tony

**Spoilers:** Season 5

**Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo**

"_So everything you said to me was a lie?"_

"_No, not everything. Not the important things."_

She's never going to forgive me. I don't blame her. If it were me and my lover screwed me over like that, I'd... I guess it's different for us guys. Do we get jealous? Sure we do. Do we get lonely? You bet. But we very rarely utilise revenge tactics – for work, career and reputation, we do, and we can get more creative than a jealous ex – but not for love. Not usually, not me at least. It's just very un-DiNozzo.

Girls tend to think that guys get over i_t_ much more quickly than they do. OK maybe we live with it better, but we don't just... you never just _get over it_.

It hurts, like a war wound, like you've been shot. Then it throbs, and you think you can live with it, but it comes back to bite you, like joint pain, it comes at you during the Winter months. Then it's like a recurring skin infection where you think it's healed, and you have the scabs to show for it, but occasionally it bleeds out. I could describe all the stages of grief, but I don't think I need to. We've all been there.

Losing mum was and still is like the most serious of war wounds from the Great War. Losing Kate is becoming a joint problem for me. Losing Paula is a bad cut that won't clot. But Losing Jeanne. I can't describe it. I can't classify it. Less than a year ago, she was but a stranger to me, she was my assignment, my mission. She was a lot of things, but lover was definitely not one of them. And now... now I'm hurting in places I didn't even know existed. If there was ever a need for Ducky to update his inventory of human physiology, now would be a supreme time.

But my eyes are dry. I seem to run out of tears. When I told her that I loved her, I mean truly loved her, I was crying. When we both nearly died that day – twice, I might add – my pulse was impossibly fast. Now my heart rate is incredibly dull, it's like my brain can't connect to my heart. I'm feeling, at least I think I'm feeling, but my body doesn't react, doesn't respond at all.

My fingers are gliding along my Casio keyboard. I find that it soothes me. The Casio's usual home is in the cupboard, but every once in a while, when I get some down time by myself, I will take it out and put it on my desk. I haven't played in a long time.

I have a funny relationship with music. I can't actually read sheet music. I can barely play with two hands. I know enough to make up the melody and a simple base accompaniment but you wouldn't hear Beethoven coming from my keyboard. I mostly just play by ear. If I hear a melody I like, I can usually figure it out once I have a keyboard in front of me.

Sometimes I'm not playing what I'm hearing, but what I'm thinking. People do a lot of different things when they are trying to sort through their thoughts. Some people smoke, some people go for walks, some people listen to music. I like to make music when my mind can't catch up with my mood. It's cheaper than seeing a shrink anyways.

I've had lots of random melodies that have come from these in-the-moment encounters with the keyboard. If I taped them, I'd have a whole stash of CDs worth of my random melodies now. I don't record them because I don't need to listen to them again afterwards. The melodies come and they go, I don't see them coming and I'm happy again once they've gone.

Random melodies means I'm in the ranting stage, I just want to get it all out of my system. Old melodies from real songs is the next stage. This is where I've calmed down a bit and I'm in a contemplative state.

I play a neat tune from the sixties. Although I normally like to listen to rock, my fingers have surprised me with a pop melody. I'm starting to relax now, and I've closed my eyes.

You really don't want to know what the next stage is, of my music routine, but it's happening so I'm going to have to admit it. You'll need to cover your ears though. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, you have the unfortunate luck of having to listen to my singing voice.

_Wise men say..._

_Only fools rush in,_

_But I can't help... falling in love... with... you_

_Shall I stay,_

_Would it be... a... sin..._

_If I can't... help... falling in love... with... you..._

Yes, I told you it was disgraceful. But it helps me to forget whatever it was that was worrying me before so I go through with it, and you'll just have to um... suffer through it.

"Your singing voice is a lot deeper than your natural voice."

I know that voice.

I open my eyes.

Oh no!

"Ziva, what are you doing in my house?" For a man who had just been singing quite loudly, I don't know why I'm whispering.

"I came by to see how you were doing." She replies. "I didn't knock because I heard the beautiful melody playing."

"How did you get in then?" I ask her, dreading the answer.

"I came by your window." She replies like it's the most natural thing to do in the world.

My unit is twelve storeys off the ground. I go over to the window and look out.

"You crazy?" I stare at her.

"Don't stop playing on my account." She shrugs. "I didn't know you were musical."

"Please don't tell Probie." My eyes are reaching into hers.

"If you promise not to call the police on my breaking and entering, I shall consider your request." She's not looking at me on purpose.

"I, uh... it was nothing. I was just... I was bored." I try to explain hastily.

"No, you were not bored. You were sad." She tells me.

"I... what?"

"It's OK to be sad. She was a very beautiful woman." She guessed.

"She... who? Oh no, you are not. I don't need a councillor." I grab her shoulder and try to push her toward the door.

She flinches, but she holds her pose, and I'm glad not to be pounded by those very well trained fists. It was a reflex from her Mossad training. She would flinch but she would control herself and not strike when it wasn't a life and death situation like now.

"I am not trying to council you. I am trying to help you." She protests, but she allows me to escort her to the door.

"Come on Ziva, I just want a little quiet me time." I whine with my head tilted sideways.

"Have you spoken to her yet?" She asks me.

"She doesn't want to be spoken to." I tell her.

"Perhaps it is for the best." She reasons.

**

* * *

**

The next morning, I come out from the escalators and Elvis is playing through the room. Our squad room never has music playing. Period. That's Abby's department. Gibbs is going to kill us.

"Hey!" I yell at McGee, because he's the one with the music controls. "Turn that off, do you want Gibbs to kill us?"

"I happen to like Elvis." Gibbs says, coming from behind me. "Although, you could have picked a better track than _Love me tender_ McGee."

"I didn't pick it, Ziva did." Timothy responds.

I am going to kill her.

I turn around and I see her sitting in a very relaxed posture on her chair.

"Come on Tony, where is the love?" She smiles at me.

I want to punch her but my hands won't cooperate. Once again my mind is having trouble connecting with my body.


End file.
